Novellus
by Mapon
Summary: "I just want to play football." But when you're not the typical sort of football player – small, frail, and not-all-that male – things can be tough. Sena just might end up being the biggest football sensation, or the next failed celebrity. Nonbinary!Sena; eventual HiruSena.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Novellus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the series or characters involved in this story.

**Warnings**: AU, non-canon genders, gender-shenanigans, romance, assault

**Relationship**: Hiruma/Sena

**Summary**: "I just want to play football." But when you're not the typical sort of football player – small, frail, and not-all-that male – things can be tough. Sena just might end up being the biggest football sensation, or the next failed celebrity.

**Notes**: _While this story will use she/her/hers pronouns for some of the story when referring to Sena, Sena is not a girl in this fic. Rather than going the route of the usual fem!Sena fics, Sena is outside the gender binary, choosing to be called 'daughter' and 'her' mostly for aesthetic purposes. You're going to see a lot of 'gender play' in this story, including dressing outside of the norm, refusal to conform with gender norms, etc. If you can't stand that, this isn't the fic for you. If you want a character that is either a boy or a girl, this isn't the fic for you._

_This fic is based in an obscure US city, as I didn't feel I could do credit to the Japanese schooling system._

* * *

**Chapter One**

Mihae Kobayakawa loved her child. She had since before Sena was born, and that love only grew the older Sena got. Her daughter was everything she could want.

Including being not _quite_ a daughter.

"Honey?" Mihae called up the stairs as her husband finished the last sips of his coffee. He gave his wife a small squeeze before heading out. She smiled briefly at him before stepping up toward their daughter's room. "Sena, are you almost ready? You can't be late for your first day."

"Yeah," Sena's voice drifted down the stairs, barely loud enough to be heard. "I'm just...um..."

Mihae sighed.

This happened every year. School would roll around and Sena would spend an hour in her room, picking at her clothes, unsure of what to wear. That the teenager could be so distraught by a _uniform_ -

Mihae caught herself and smiled, walking up to her daughter's room and knocking on the door.

Sena barely opened the door, her bright brown eyes peeking out.

"Is it a pants sort of day?" Mihae asked. Sena bit her lip, worrying it bright red, before shaking her head. "Then wear your skirt."

Slowly, extending the creak in the hinges, Sena opened the door – and she was already dressed, her hair tied up soundly in a bun, and a skirt drooping down toward her knees. Mihae brushed her thumb against her daughter's face, noticing the lip gloss and eyeliner, and some nameless emotion bubbled in her. She hugged Sena rather than face it.

"Do I look okay?" Sena asked.

"You look perfect."

And as Sena waved goodbye, bag tossed over her shoulder, all Mihae knew was that she had the perfect child. Sometimes daughter, sometimes son, often neither -

Sena was exactly who they were meant to be.

* * *

Which wasn't always an easy thing to be.

Sena tugged on her skirt, unused to the fabric. New school meant new clothes. New school meant new people. She tugged on the skirt again.

Maybe she should have worn pants after all. But she wasn't feeling like pants, today, and with a firm press against her thighs she reminded herself of the cotton shorts under her skirt. Just in case.

She was tugging the skirt down for the fifth time when Mamori ran toward her, her sweet voice calling from across the street. Sena stopped immediately and waved to the older girl, and her whole world lightened up.

Mamori had always been a light in Sena's life. Since they were children, when their mothers' first told them to go off and play together, since the first time Mamori painted Sena's nails or rescued her from bullies – Mamori had been shining bright.

She threaded her fingers between Sena's own, and then the two of them were off toward school. Immediately, Mamori went into the perks of high school, the joys of having a more active social life, the extracurricular activities. It certainly sounded wonderful to Sena, but a rock was forming in her gut.

"Do you think you'll join the art club again with Momo?" Mamori asked, and the rock in Sena's stomach dropped right through her guts. Her fingers tightened around Mamori's.

She only shrugged in response. The movement made the older girl untangle herself from her friend, huffing in the process.

"Why not? You like it. You're good at it. Better than I am," she said begrudgingly. Any other day Sena might have laughed – Mamori's art was truly horrendous – but the weight inside her made it difficult to even smile. She turned to look at the palo verdes instead, their skeleton green branches arched up toward the painful bright blue sky.

She thought of staying silent. It would be better not to worry Mamori, who worried over the slightest thing, who has prone to anxiety anyway. But she couldn't keep anything from her 'older sister'. Not when she had been there so long, always supportive, always helpful and willing.

"Momo is..." Sena started. Mamori leaned in closer as they walked, and Sena grimaced. Damn small voice. "Momo's just been acting weird lately."

Weird was, of course, an understatement. Sena gripped her bag, hard, and ignored the way Mamori went awfully still and quiet. She just kept walking, not willing to see the pitiful expression that was no doubt on Mamori's face. That, or a murderous one.

It wasn't that Sena didn't want to be around Momo anymore. She just didn't want to, well, be around Momo alone.

Mamori's pursed, glossed lips standing out in the sun as the two walked further toward school, crowds of other students finally gathering and chatting. A few tossed interested looks at Sena, but she ignored them and reached for Mamori's hand again.

"It's nothing," she said, drawing closer to her friend. "She's just – touchy."

Mamori's grip nearly broke Sena's hand, but then she was tugging Sena inside the school gates – just in time for the warning bells to ring. She squeezed even tighter, and Sena was sure that she would lose the appendage entirely.

"Call me. If there is any problem. Or call your mom. Please," was what she said before straightening Sena's shirt and walking toward class.

Leaving Sena to stand in the middle of campus without a guide, leaving her to stumble into her first class of the day just as the last bell rang, and leaving her to see that the only seat open was the one right next to Momo.

She tugged at her skirt, but she immediately regretted it. Momo was already looking at her, those heavy eyes trailing down Sena's frame, and something slick oozed across Sena's skin. The feeling only worsened when Momo sniffed and looked away.

"Hello?" their teacher called to her, and Sena jumped, shocked out of her pain and memory. She smiled weakly at the teacher, an older man with graying hair swirled like a mop on his head. She hated introductions, but mustering all her confidence, she stepped toward the teacher's desk.

"Hi. I'm...Sena Koabayawaka."

He blinked, not recognizing the name at first, before his eyes went wide and he nodded furiously, marking her down on his roster. She smiled again, shaky. Every teacher reacted that way. She couldn't remember a time when they hadn't.

"I'm glad to have you in my class. If you need anything, just let me know," he said. She nodded, bowing her head too deeply, and then rushed to the only open desk.

She tried not to look at Momo. She tried not to notice the painted nails, perfectly filed, expertly buffed. She tried not to notice the girl's new shoes, or the feather earrings hanging from her ears, or the too-heavy blush on her cheeks. But she did, and she swallowed down the shame of noticing as she withdrew her notebook and turned her gaze to the whiteboard.

"You look pretty," Momo said halfway through class. Sena almost couldn't believe she had spoken at all, but she glanced at the girl and saw those dark eyes gazing at her own. She nearly jumped from her desk in fright.

"You look good too," she whispered. Momo didn't respond, and Sena was worried that perhaps she had been too quiet. She was quiet already, maybe whispering made her voice invisible, but just as stress was building up as sweat on her neck, Momo shifted closer.

"You wanna have lunch together?" Momo offered.

Sena looked up at her friend again, and those dark eyes were steady and true. She felt the rock in her stomach lighten, and, shoulders slumping with relief, nodded.

Maybe life would be good this year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Novellus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the series or characters involved in this story.

**Warnings**: AU, non-canon genders, gender-shenanigans, romance, _assault_

**Relationship**: Hiruma/Sena

**Summary**: "I just want to play football." But when you're not the typical sort of football player – small, frail, and not-all-that male – things can be tough. Sena just might end up being the biggest football sensation, or the next failed celebrity.

**Notes**: _Serious warning for sexual assault in this chapter. I debated whether to include sexual and gender violence in this story and ultimately decided to include it as it reflects reality, and I want to show both the supportive people and the awful people we meet as non-typically gendered people. There is also an OC in this chapter, who was referenced in the last. The reason for this is I have seen too many people bash a canon character by making them commit atrocious acts, and I have no interest in that._

_Please read & review. This is an in-process work. Also remember to go vote on my profile on what I should work on next._

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The dining hall was hectic. People running to each other, couples practically eating each other's faces, and _everyone was talking_. Sena couldn't breathe through all the noise.

"I'll get us pizza," Momo said. Her smile was huge as she drew closer, her hand settling on Sena's lower back. It was hot, even through her uniform shirt, and Sena stiffened. She handed Momo her lunch card, fingers so frozen she was barely able to let go, but Momo's smile only grew as she walked away. She was pleased with herself, pleased with her touching and her nurturing and her taking care of Sena.

Sena rushed out of the dining hall, finding the most private area she could, and pressed her back into the brick until the wall bit into her skin. Her heart was racing, her fingers trembling, and she considered that having Momo around was almost the same as being surrounded by a bunch of strangers.

Mamori – Mamori knew how to nurture. Mamori was kind, holding Sena close but never too close. She was fierce, swinging any handy object if someone dare start a fight. And she was beautiful. Sena's heart slowed, just by a fraction, as she thought of the older girl's hair catching in the sunlight, the way her back curved when she bent over a pot of soup, how her fingers felt when she tugged Sena's hair into braids -

By the time Momo arrived with the pizza, Sena's heart was steady again, and she could give Momo a smile that didn't quiver.

"Let's sit on the bench," Sena offered, pointing to one situated just under a tall pine. Momo shoved the pizza into Sena's hands and began walking to their seat, stride quick and wide.

In another life, Momo might have been someone Sena could fall for. Tall, well-built, and flamboyant – Mamori had said more than once that Momo was a perfect compliment to Sena. But in this life, the one Sena was leading, Momo was a friend, and she could never be anything more. She tried, hard, and Sena knew. Momo wanted to take care of Sena, nurture her like Mamori did, but it was for all the wrong reasons.

Or at least, it had been. Sena sat next to the taller girl and bit into her pizza.

Maybe life would be good this time.

"What did you do this summer?" Momo asked around a bite, her voice muffled. Sena tried to fit most of the pizza in her mouth before responding.

She was still chewing when Momo pushed on with, "Have you thought about what I told you?"

Sena's throat felt raw and rough when she swallowed the pizza, and for a while she just sat silently, staring at the chessy, greasy food before her. The wind whipped past them, a brief respite from the heat, and Sena wished it would take her away. Maybe if she became the wind instead, she would be free.

Maybe if the wind carried her away, she wouldn't feel Momo's hand moving to her thigh. Maybe she wouldn't feel Momo's hand slipping up her skirt, inch by inch.

The wind didn't take Sena away. It didn't take away Momo's invading hand. And it didn't whisk away the dark, simmering emotion in Sena's ribcage.

The wind whipped against her again, and the betrayal in her chest spilled open.

"Stop it," she said, and her voice wasn't the small murmur it usually was.

Momo's hand froze.

"Um," Momo said, her puffy lips squished in confusion as she stared at Sena. There was pizza grease just on the edge of them, and Sena thought of when she could wipe something like that off. When she could hold Momo's head in her lap, when they could stay up until two in the morning gossiping and laughing. When Momo's hands didn't try to sneak up her skirts or grope her through her shorts.

Pricks of pain came to her eyes, but Sena pushed through them and pushed away from her friend.

"Don't touch me like that," she said, even louder and stronger.

Momo's unsure lips curled into a deep frown, and her eyebrows drew together. "You won't tell me, so how else am I supposed to figure it out?"

Sena didn't notice as she tossed the pizza to the ground in her effort to grab and pull her skirt down. She squeezed her legs together and drew further from Momo.

"It's none of your business," Sena said, and her voice was sharp enough to startle herself.

Her shoulders were shaking.

Mamori was on speedial – number two. But just the thought of her, just a number away, made the quake in Sena's shoulders and knees lessen, and she could meet Momo's eyes head on.

Eyes that were flaming with rage and pain.

"I don't get you," Momo said, her voice a quiet contrast to Sena's own strengthening one. 'Perfect compliment,' Sena though again, Mamori's words echoing. "You're supposed to be a boy."

Sena stood, almost falling as her legs twitched, but she refused to back down. Not from this. Never from this.

"I'm not a boy. And I'm not supposed to be one." Fiddling with her bag, she yanked out her phone and readied to call Mamori.

Momo snatched it right from her fingers, and she pulled Sena uncomfortable close, snarling at her.

"You're a bitch," she spat, the spittle flying onto Sena's face.

"I'm not a girl either," Sena snapped back, trying to tug away. Momo's grip was too strong, and she felt her arms bruising, like little bugs pinching under her skin. She glared up at the taller girl. "You're just mad because you like me."

Sena knew it. She'd known it since they were in middle school and Momo shifted close to her during class and recess. She'd known since Momo grabbed her arms and spun her into dancing. She'd known since summer, when Momo had said those little, tiny, destructive words:

"Why can't you just be a boy?"

She'd pressed Sena into the fence along the park, body heavy against Sena's own, and Sena had been overly conscious of the girl's knee shoved between her thighs. She'd been wearing shorts then.

"Are you a boy?" Momo had whispered into her ear, and it was with the sun setting in fiery orange and red that Sena felt that awful crack in her chest that she'd learned was betrayal.

She'd shoved away from Momo, tears running like rivers down her cheeks, and ran home.

_It was one time_, she thought, but here Momo was, with her fingers digging red crescents into Sena's arm, demanding Sena be something she could understand. _It was one time_, she thought, and everyone deserved a second chance, right? Everyone messed up sometimes, right?

"You're a fucking freak," Momo said.

Sena kicked at her shin, and the girl yelped in pain – releasing Sena just long enough for the now crying teenager to shoot off like a bullet away from her one-time friend.

She wasn't conscious as she ran – dodging teachers, classmates, trees, jumping over tables. She didn't know where she was going.

All she knew was the fracture in her sternum, in her heart, and the wind as it hit her face and dried away all the tears.

She'd secured herself in an seemingly unused shed when she realized her phone and lunch card were still with Momo. She collapsed against the door, too weak to stand any longer, too tired to cry.

The crack in her chest had opened up into a gaping hole, and all her stress and betrayal and hot pain was flowing out of it.

When she sobbed, it was dry and rough and awful.

But she fell asleep like that, in the dark shed, surrounded by strange shapes and shadows, and she rested.

When Sena woke, she was sprawled on her back and staring at the blinding sky.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, covering her eyes immediately. Rough patches of dried tears itched against her hands as she tried to shield herself from the light, and she almost missed the loud, "What the fucking hell?" from above her.

Without knowing exactly what was happening, she was lifted up by the arm until she was standing. Still shielding her eyes to the sun, she tried to look at the person who had cracked open her safe hiding space.

Her heart dropped to her feet.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" the man asked. And Sena had never seen someone quite like him – trim, but with muscles poking out in a barely noticeable fashion, his uniform hanging casually around his body as if if the garment itself was too lazy to sit properly on his body. But it was his face, truly, with his sharp nose and chin, his too-wide mouth, fangs peeking out from his lips, and huge pierced ears, that made her gape.

He was the devil. The devil had just lifted her up, and Sena was pretty sure it was supposed to go the other way.

His lips twitched, and then he broke out into a huge, frightening smile. Every last one of his teeth were sharp fangs, ridiculously white and straight.

"You're Sena Kobayakawa," he said. It was Sena's turn to twitch, and she shifted back imperceptibly.

Imperceptibly for most people, anyway. The demon in front of her lifted his chin and dropped his smile as soon as she shifted away.

"You know me?" she asked. Her voice was back to the butterfly whisper of before, but heavier. From crying, and sobbing. She must have shredded her vocal chords.

"I know everyone," the demon said, waving his hand as if it were common knowledge. He shoved past – not truly close to Sena at all, but she still tensed – and into the shed. He flicked on a light she hadn't even seen earlier. The odd shapes and shadows burst into light, and she could see helmets, uniforms, and rickety equipment shoved into every corner of the room.

She hadn't meant to follow him in, really, but her feet carried her there anyway.

"I'm Yoichi Hiruma," he said, twirling around on one foot and smiling again. Not nearly as large as before. "You can call me Hiruma."

Sena just stared for a moment before leaping away. Straight into the wall, but at least it was farther away from the demon.

"You're – you're the demon of Deimon!" she stammered. Hiruma laughed, just a small, low chuckle that sounded far more ominous coming out of his mouth.

She noticed the guns poking out of the mess of equipment and clothes, and her heart sank even deeper.

Yoichi Hiruma knew everything there was to know about everyone. Absolutely everything. And for someone like Sena, that wasn't always a good thing. Was very rarely a good thing.

But the demon of Deimon only stepped one foot closer and held out his hand to the teenager pressing herself against the wall, and his demonic smile shifted into a devilish smirk.

"And you're the kid with the golden legs."

Of all the things Yoichi Hiruma might have said, Sena was not expecting that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Novellus

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the series or characters involved in this story.

**Warnings**: AU [essentially], non-canon genders

**Relationship**: Hiruma/Sena, Suzuna/Sena

**Summary**: "I just want to play football." But when you're not the typical sort of football player – small, frail, and not-all-that male – things can be tough. Sena just might end up being the biggest football sensation, or the next failed celebrity.

**Notes: **Thank you for reading. Reviews are very appreciated. If you would like to beta this fic, I'd love you forever.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Yoichi Hiruma lowered his binoculars. The rooftops of the school buildings were the best place to survey the students, and come any time during the day, he could be found watching and writing.

He didn't grab up his pencil and scribble a note in his black boo today, though. His eyes narrowed down at the girl standing near a bench, dumbfounded and clutching a phone that didn't belong to her. A few onlookers had gathered around her, the noise of her fight with her friend having garnered more than just Hiruma's attention.

But Hiruma was more concerned about the kid that had gone shooting off, so fast he couldn't keep track of them. Sena Kobayakawa – the kid almost as notorious as Hiruma himself. Of course, Sena's mother had ensured long ago that fame and notoriety wouldn't cling to her child.

Of course, Hiruma knew everything there was to know.

He shifted up from where he sat on the roof and stretched, keeping an eye on the girl below who was just now gathering her wits. She was whirling around, barking at the observers before strutting off, Sena's phone still crushed in her hand.

Hiruma glanced at his phone. He had enough time to run an errand.

So when the bell rang for lunch to end, Yoichi Hiruma had situated himself comfortably outside of Momo's classroom. He tapped on his cell phone slowly, waiting patiently and ignoring the quivering students walking as far from him as they could. Even the teacher peeked out and frowned at him, but he waved her off.

He was still fiddling with his phone when he stuck out his foot and stopped Momo in her tracks.

"Hello," he offered, too cheery. He didn't bother to be discreet as he took a picture of her before sliding his phone away.

Momo was more dishelved than she had been during her confrontation with Sena – messy hair, makeup smeared, obvious tear tracks on her cheeks. Hiruma let a bit of his real smile spread on his face. "You have something that doesn't belong to you," he said. Momo tensed.

"So?" she snapped, and it must have been her pain that blinded her into butting heads with Hiruma. No one did that. No one here at Deimon, anyway.

Hiruma grabbed her wrist and dragged her away from class, ignoring her protests and her heels digging into the floor. He threw her against a wall, and she winced as she slammed against it.

"Give it to me. The phone and the card," he ordered.

She rubbed the wrist he had grabbed. "What do you want with them?" she mumbled under her breath. She made no movement to get the items she had buried in her purse.

Hiruma pulled out a gun and shot close to her feet. She jumped.

"The phone and the card. Now."

Momo threw the items at him with force, but as she slunk away he could see her shoulders shaking.

Hiruma whistled as he walked away, not bothering to hide his gun from sight.

* * *

"Excuse me?" Sena asked, hours later after Hiruma had stumbled onto her in the football shed.

She was seated on a rickety plastic chair that Hiruma had rescued from the mess in the shed. There had been a self-boiling tea kettle and whole folding table stashed away in the wreckage of the room, and once Sena had accepted his hand and crawled down from the wall Hiruma had set it all up in seconds.

Sena didn't even know how he had found any of it that fast.

Her fingers curled around the steaming tea cup as she stared up at the demon, and he just smiled.

"I want you to join the football team," he repeated. She blinked up at him, still not believing what he had said. Not believing anything he had said or done since he had arrived in her life.

He was smiling too big again, showing off all those sharp teeth, but for the first time in hours Sena wasn't afraid. Only overwhelmed with the slow molasses of confusion and dumbfounded by the devil known as Yoichi Hiruma.

He had made her tea. He had given her back her cell phone and lunch card, silent about how he had gotten them. He'd even helped her fix her hair after it had become a mess from running and crying.

The demon of Deimon was vicious and violent, not patient and pleasant. He blackmailed people. He had the entire school under his thumb. He knew everyone and everything about everyone and everything, and people swore he really as a demonic spirit, was evil, was the worst thing that could happen to your life. (And he _would_ happen to you, because some day you would mess up, and Hiruma would be right there watching.)

"I," she said, her voice catching. She sipped her tea and hissed as it scalded her tongue. "I've never played football. I don't know how to play football."

Hiruma shrugged. "That doesn't matter."

"I think it would matter for being on a football team," she responded. Hiruma laughed and leaned against the plastic table, making it creak dangerously. Sena clutched her tea tighter. "Don't you need people who know what they're doing?"

"We need people," Hiruma said, serious for perhaps the first time that afternoon. He inclined his head toward Sena, shortening the already small distance between them even more. "And we definitely need you. You and your legs."

Sena clamped her thighs together, even though no one could see them under the table.

_Golden legs_, Hiruma had called them.

"You're ridiculously fast," he had said when he had helped her off the wall. "I already knew that, though."

"Yeah?" Sena had said, laughing weakly. "What else do you know?" she'd asked, knees clacking in fear of the answer.

Hiruma had tilted his head back at her while he gathered up the table and chairs. "Isn't that the only thing that matters?"

Sena looked up at him now, how he rested against the table, his powerful arms exposed by his rolled up sleeves, his dyed blond hair catching the rich sunlight. He was as frightening as she had imagined he would be, but the presence of him calmed him like Mamori always had.

"I don't think my legs will be enough," she said, finally able to sip the tea without burning her mouth. She averted her eyes from Hiruma, no longer willing to look at him. The stare he returned was too intense. "I mean, I think there's more to football than that..."

Hiruma grabbed the tea from her hands and took a sip of it himself. His fingers were rough against Sena's, but as calloused as they were, he was soft and fluid in his movements. She bit her lip.

"You're over thinking it," Hiruma said. He gave the tea back to her, and she cradled it lightly. "Our team needs your legs. And you need an extracurricular, don't you?"

Sena stared down into the dark liquid and didn't respond.

"Eh. Think about it," Hiruma said, shrugging again and moving away from the table.

No sooner had he done so came a shrill cry from the door of, "Yoichi Hiruma!"

And shrill at it was, Sena knew it immediately as Mamori.

"Mamo!"she cried, leaping up from the chair. The tea cup flew from her hands, her grip not strong enough, and it was only thanks to Hiruma – cursing under his breath as he caught it – that it didn't crash against the floor. Mamori ran into the shed and gathered Sena in her arms, pressing her face tight against her chest and almost suffocating the younger girl. And even while she comforted and coddled, she was hissing at Hiruma.

"What do you think you're doing? Sena should be in class! I can't believe you made her miss class on the first day. There is absolutely no good reason for this, Hiruma. Pick on upperclassman if you want, but - " Mamori was ranting. Sena didn't mind being pressed tightly against her friend, but she struggled against Mamori's grip all the same, wanting access to air and the chance of protest.

"Oh come off it," Hiruma snapped, waving his hand dismissively. "I wasn't picking on them. And I didn't steal them away from classes or whatever weird conspiracy you've come up with," he said, waggling his fingers at the other girl.

Sena was able to breathe, but she didn't have enough air to speak yet. Mamori was too distracted by her fight with Hiruma to realize Sena was desperately trying to get away.

Not that she minded being literally shoved into Mamori's breasts, but it was hardly in the sort of situation she would have preferred.

"Well, she was absent in most of her classes, so how do you explain that?" Mamori snipped back. Sena squirmed out of her arms, and she finally took notice of her friend. "Oh, Sena, are you okay? I was so worried about you."

Sena breathed heavily. "I'm...fine," she said. She held out her hand to stop Mamori from hugging her again. She refrained from saying that she had been much better before Mamori had crushed the life out of her. "And...it wasn't Hiruma's fault that I wasn't in class."

Hiruma grunted, vindicated.

Mamori frowned. "Were you ditching? What happened?"

Sena twitched. Her body still burned when she thought of Momo's hands on her, but she didn't want to tell Mamori. She didn't want to see the anger on the other girl's face, and she certainly didn't want her pity. She wanted to curl up in a ball, preferably on her bed, and ignore the world. White-hot betrayal surged up in her chest again. She didn't know if she could tell Mamori what happened even if she wanted to.

Hiruma stepped toward Mamori, his smile having fallen for longer than Sena had ever seen. Ever seen being just this afternoon, though. "There was a problem with one of their classmates," he said.

Though her throat ached too much to speak, Sena wasn't sure if she was grateful that Hiruma was speaking on her behalf.

"What?" Mamori hissed, her face darkening. "Who would dare do something?"

"I dunno," Hiruma brushed off, and everyone in the room knew he was lying. "Why don't you take the kid home instead of interrogating me? I'll tell you later."

Mamori's hands crushed into fists. She glared up at Hiruma, the tension and distaste filling the air, but with a firm shake of her head Mamori turned from her classmate and grabbed Sena's hand.

Her grip wasn't nearly as strong as it could be.

"He's right. School's over, so let's go home."

Sena leaned on her the whole way home, and neither of them said a word.


	4. Update

**Author's Note -**

Sorry to use a chapter to update; I'll be erasing this once I update with an actual chapter. In the mean time, I wanted to let everyone know that I'm reworking Novellus. It's current incarnation is too serious, and most of my fics are serious stories to begin with. I'll be going for a more comedic route and taking out the OC. (Novellus will also be part of a triad of stories, not directly connected but all with the same theme and retelling of the manga.) Please be patient with me! Thank you for all of the reviews and follows, and please stay with me as the story changes. I promise it will be much, much better than it could be in its current state.

-Mapon


End file.
